


The One Thing More

by deathmallow



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, Prompt fill ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 16:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathmallow/pseuds/deathmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a Hunger Games ficathon prompt: <i>AU fic, Primrose Abernathy is reaped into the Hunger Games.  Her sister Katniss volunteers to take her place, knowing fully well that the Games are what made their dad such an irreparable ****-up; not knowing that pulling Prim's name was the Capitol's final attempt to destroy everyone Haymitch has ever loved.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Thing More

Haymitch had both girls in the Reaping this year now that Primrose was finally twelve, and so he'd taken a little extra dose of hundred-twenty-proof courage this morning. All the while he was feeling Katniss' disapproval as he did it. Too much like him, this one, too much. Though it was the silent, glaring kind. She guarded her tongue a hell of a lot better than he ever had and if there was one good lesson he'd managed to give her as a father there was that much at least.

Perulla made lunch and he ate, mostly trying to keep up the show for the kids. Prim sat and nervously picked at her food. "It's all right, Prim," he said, trying to console her as best he could. "You'll be fine. Only one slip in there, that's all." At least they’d never taken tesserae, his kids. Katniss had her five slips in there and Prim had her one. They’d never needed to be hungry or desperate. Just meant putting up with a father who drank too much and couldn’t sleep without a knife at hand and sometimes ended up screaming in terror at things that weren’t there. What a life. 

Truth was that he knew the reaping ball had an unusual habit of picking victors’ kids, no matter how few slips they had in there. Every year since Katniss turned twelve he’d lived in fear of it, but so far she’d escaped it. 

He and Perulla Banner had started first as a mutual grief for a plucky blond girl, her best friend and his best ally. Eventually it became more than just their missing Maysilee and he’d asked her to marry him. He should have known better, should have had the guts and the sense to realize he was meant to be alone so there was nothing left to be taken away. But he’d been so damn empty, so achingly alone, and then there was Perulla who somehow brought back the best of him and kept it safe. She was a healer with a healer’s hands and even if parts of him were damaged beyond repair, she soothed and stitched up what pieces of his soul she could, protected the gentlest in him that was too often in danger of being drowned away in white liquor, and she kept him tied to this life, this reality, rather than all the past nightmares. How she could trust he wouldn’t turn on her someday was beyond him. 

She loved him and gave him two daughters and even if there was fear in that, there was such joy too, a grace unexpected and all the more precious for it. Of course he didn’t deserve a moment of it. But if he could raise up two good kids somehow, maybe it was at least something against the two that he brought back in coffins every single year.

She’d brushed down his best coat and left it out on the bed, and smoothed its shoulders as he put it on. “You want to look your best,” she murmured softly.

He was mostly sober, far too sober in his opinion, but Perulla put her foot down after a few swigs and took the bottle away before he had anything more than a pleasant buzz going on. It was probably equal measures of his love for her and his fear that she’d take the kids and leave if he fully went to hell the way he really wanted to that he let her do it. “Oh, yeah. They already all know, no matter how old or young they are, I’m the monster that drags kids to their doom. Dressing well is somehow gonna scare them less,” he said, and immediately regretted the harsh bite of his tone. He turned to her, touched his forehead to hers for a moment. “Sorry,” he rasped, stroking her cheek. “Just this fucking day.”

Her fingers tangled in his black hair, holding him steady so her eyes met his. “Maybe this’ll be the year.” She kissed his cheek gently. “We’ll be thinking of you while you're gone.”

They walked to the square together, Perulla in her best dress, Prim in a fresh blouse and skirt and two blond braids, Katniss in her new blue dress and the intricate braid Perulla made with those clever fingers. “I’ll see you soon,” he said to them. Prim he touched on the shoulder. Katniss he didn’t, because she was smart enough to already be trying to distance herself from him. His eldest was a survivor, and not just with that bow.

The sun was too bright and the faces in front of him were far too anxious and too young. Effie did her usual spiel and then reached into the reaping ball for the girls. Haymitch only vaguely watched her fingers and the white slip of paper. This was his twenty-fourth time through this particular wringer. It held no mysteries for him. “Primrose Abernathy!”

His eyes flew to Prim, startled in the group of twelves, her mouth a round “o” of horror. Snow took his family back when he was sixteen. The message was clear and he should have heeded it. He should have known he was living on borrowed time in starting another family. He should just have stayed down like he was supposed to do, but he was too damn weak.

Looking at some of the parents surrounding the square, was it just him or was there a stony satisfaction that this year he'd finally know what it was like for them every year, the ones left mourning the second that name was called? No. No. Just paranoia talking. Guilt. Not real. There was actual grief on the faces of a few.

“Prim,” he whispered to himself, fingers balling up into a fist. Sweet Prim who could still make him laugh and who hugged him without fear or Katniss’ judgmental reserve. Gentle Prim who loved animals and begged Perulla to heal any wounded thing that crossed her path. Tiny, twelve-year-old Prim. She was probably the purest good thing he had to show for his life. She wouldn’t last in the arena, and he knew that losing her would be the thing that finally made him crawl into that bottle for good and never come out.

“Well, young lady, your fa--” Effie began after a few moments of awkward, nervous silence.

“I volunteer!” Katniss’ voice suddenly rang out. “I volunteer as tribute!”

**Author's Note:**

> Just had to play on this playground, because I love me some AU.
> 
> Original prompt: http://kolms.livejournal.com/18020.html?thread=701540#t701540


End file.
